Beating a Subconcious Retreat

During my last fencing lesson with John, we worked on timing and footwork. In fencing, timing is everything, and being light and accurate on your feet is a crucial aspect of whether you score the point or lose the point. As a drill, John asked me to match his footwork up and down the strip. If he advanced, I retreated. If he retreated, I advanced. I learned how to read my opponents footwork, read the position of the blade, and plan my next move accordingly. Advancing the drill, John would call out a number, say “4” “3” “5” and my job was to match the footwork, then lunge and sink the blade the split second before he took his last step. This is where the trouble started.

Flipping his mask up, John said, “What did you just do?”
Flipping my mask up, I replied, “I lunged and sunk the blade.”
“No, you didn’t. What did you do before you lunged?”
“I advanced.”
“No, you didn’t. Do it again.”

And so we put our masks back down and try it again. Each time John asks, “What did you do RIGHT BEFORE YOU LUNGED?” And each time, I swore I knew, and each time I was wrong. “THAT. THAT. Your right leg came out into a lunge, you sunk the blade. Your lunge is great. But what are you doing with your back leg?” And after about five tries, I finally noticed something. The split second before I lunge, sink the blade and glance at the clock to see if the touch was mine, I take a step backward.

“Why are you stepping back? Stick the back leg. AGAIN.” I love fencing with John because he is hard on me. Masks down, advance, retreat, advance, retreat, determine if the position of the opponent’s blade is a threat, maintain distance, parry, lunge, riposte, sink the blade. “Stick the back leg!” “Drop your arm!” “Close your 6!” “Watch your bellguard!”. Amid coaching directions from John, Gene, Tom, Brad, Kyle and Ellen, I realize I do not stick my back leg the split second before I lunge. I am a subconscious retreater.

Damnit, apparently I pull my punches.

I pride myself on never pulling my punches. This is a blow. John asks for an explanation. “Why the hell are you stepping backward?” One of the things I love most about fencing is that it is immediate, so I man up, as it were. “I’m afraid my leg isn’t strong enough to pull me out of the lunge fast enough to save my own ass!” And there you have it, ladies and gentlemen. Fear. I stand there on my 45 year old legs, clad in fencing whites, weapon on my hip, mask under my arm. Shame pulls me down like quicksand. Am I strong enough?

Fear that you aren’t strong enough in some way will always make you pull your punches. In life, in love, in fencing. Fear that if you move forward into something legs lunging, weapon flying, heart on your sleeve, you won’t be able to control it well enough to get yourself out of it without getting hurt. It will also keep you forever out of reach of your target, whatever your target happens to be. This week I will be doing lunges, with no subconscious retreat. I don’t ever want to move backward. The only way out is through.